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She is Africa.
Legs longer than the Nile.
The soil of her soul is where minerals are found.
Diamonds of calm.
Gold pieces of wisdom.
I am of her earth and long to be inside her earth.
She feeds me.
Offers my roots strength.
She models.
This universe is her catwalk.
I watch her strut. No. glide.
Slient.
Floats on melanin.
She is the new black.
She is the old black.
Her spirit aligns me.
I want to make love to her chakras.
I want to slide into her red.
Glide into her orange hue.
Taste it.
Converse with her yellow.
Busk in its glow.
Kiss her green.
Heal it with the lips of my nurturing.
Caress her blue.
Touch it. Feel its pulse. Its vibration.
Open the legs of her purple.
Go deep inside her.
Touch her roof. Her crown.
Give her long strokes until she orgasms white light.

So a fan read my Eva story and decided she’d do her own version based on yours truly (i’m very flattered). Her name is MissBehaviour and this is her story.

It was almost a blur, and I say that in the sense of my eyes rolling back into my head, where I was able to see an astral plane of immense pleasure, bright stars, masterful galaxies and acknowledgment of being at one with the grand universe.. centered through the pulsating walls of my moistened vagina. I sh*t you not. My loins seem to know the meaning of life! My waves of orgasmic pleasure, intrigue, heightened sense of adventure and sexual expression has not been invigorated so profusely until as of recent, and I am one to have experienced a number of adventures, but nothing quite like this… Continue reading →

I love how you call out his name
Repeat it
Call out to him for forgiveness
Plead for mercy
Beseech to stay in this pleasurable sin
Snarl his name
Your tone coarse
Vexed joy
Submissive worship
How you sing it
Lift your voice up on high
Praise him
How you exhale hard
Pronounce his name between gasps
Drag it out from the pit of your belly
Let it grate against your vocal cords
How it spills out your mouth
Love how it is preceded with profanity
How you say his name like a question
Call it out like a revelation
Scream it out wanting confirmation
Wanting salvation
Say it like a mantra
Mediate on it
I love how it pops out your mouth
Changes pace each time you say it
Fast and sudden
Slow and drawn out
Rises and falls in staccato octaves
Love how vowel sounds trail after it
Expressed with raw emotion
Whispered under short breaths
How you say it with strength
Moan it with full body conviction
Mumble it with weak surrender
Say it with disbelief
I love how when we sex you moan
Oh
My
God

My tongue wants to take a holiday between your thighs
Escape
Relax
Recuperate
Busk in the sunshine of your nib
Soak in its rays of ultraviolet throbs
Become kissed by its glow
My tongue wants to become radiant from its warm
Walk alone the coastline of your woman shoreline
Have the ocean of your wetness lap at its tip
Swim in your tropical waters
Skinny dip in your lagoon
Dive naked into your depths
My tongue wants to take a holiday between your thighs Continue reading →

I don’t know about anyone else but the topic of PDA (public displays of affection) is, when you’re with a FB, a no-no. In fact being seen together generally is a no-no; it’s strictly late nights and behind closed downs. However … there was this one guy – Bola Isaiah Green or as I called him Mr BIG (and not just because of his initials) that I more often than not broke this rule. He was half Jamaica, half Nigerian. I know, I know … a combination of two of the fieriest, argumentative, overly confident, boastful and horniest people on the planet. Bola was a temp at my work place and from day one my man was on my case. He wasn’t crass or crude with his approach, just relentless – a trait of both Jamaican and Nigerian men. I do have to hand it to him; he was a gentleman … a horny beast but a gentleman. Every Monday I’d be my coffee and doughnut – if I’ve got the Monday blues I’d need the caffeine and sugar rush to kick start my day. Anyway, Bola must have picked up on this and all of a sudden I’d come into the office and he’d have coffee and doughnuts waiting for me. I knew what he wanted; he knew that I knew what he wanted. I’d be blatant with him and tell him he doesn’t get any brownie points but he still continued to supply my Monday fix. He did become my Monday pusher man giving me my Monday morning drugs, it was sweet I have to say. He’d invite me out for lunch, after work drinks, dinner, movies, theatre the works. Now don’t get me wrong its not that I wasn’t interested, I was. Bola was about 5’9, dressed slick, kissable lips, cheeky smile and had a tick chest – he was most fuckable indeed. Maybe it was the JA/9ja blend but he was funny, confident, charming and sexy. However, 1.we worked together – which in the DeeDee Walker book of rules is in the top 10 of no-nos. 2. He was blatant with his approach and everyone in the office was watching us and this little ‘office chase, come romance’. I wasn’t about to be the topic of conversation in the staff room or at the water fountain. Different time, different place I would have fucked him til I moaned like a bitch. His compliments made me laugh … and sometimes wet. Point in case when he said.
‘DeeDee Walker, you look so good today I’d turn down mummy’s Sunday dinner just to feast on you.’ Continue reading →

It was just gone passed midday and Eva was working from home on her next show. The last few days had been unusually hot for UK summer and she loved it. She waltzed around the house in her oversized t-shirt floating between her bedroom, the kitchen and the living room. The episode of last night echoed in Eva’s mind. She tried to work out how and why she was so turned on by it all. Her mind, her logic was shouting at her to fix up and not allow, in essence a stranger, control her like Marcus did. However, her body, was a live with the pleasure of being dominated, being controlled the way Marcus controlled her. It was a clash of mind and body and right now her body was way out in the lead in the race of indulgent pleasures. Her pussy was still tingling and begging to be touched, pleading for release. It’s a good thing she was working from home because Marcus had left her hornier than a nymphomaniac on Viagra. Her t-shirt would brush against her nipples as she moved around the house making her wet. Continue reading →